Light streamed through the open window in the little cottage. Wisps of clouds fought with the light for a way through the window. A gentle breeze flitted through skimming past the mist and tried to wake the young lady up but alas, it was a futile attempt; she was already awake.

Lying face up, her eyes found a peculiar attraction to the small crack on her ceiling. She lay sprawled on her bed, arms contorted. Her bedsheets, too, lay by her, entwined between her limbs. They did not cover her feet or her face, but they managed to hide the raw, fresh slash that ran along her forearm and thigh. She shuddered mildly. She hugged her bedsheet, her eyes still locked on to the crack above her. It reminded her of her leg.

Silence.

A seagull squawked.

The slab of wood from the Lighthouse pier lay nonchalantly on her leg, chafing it. She muscled it away and it left her leg but had not left empty-handed. It had taken every ounce of energy she had left. A look of disbelief settled on her face as she glanced at her injuries. A good bit of skin wasn’t where it should be. Something warm seeped out. Calmly. Patiently. She lay there hypnotised by her wound. Terrified. She clasped the slab tightly and pulled herself up. The warmth seemed to gush out faster now. Paralysed, she fell to the ground. She noted that it was wet. Seconds pass. Minutes go by. She pulled herself up again, she couldn’t feel her left leg. A gulp. She hobbled forward, careful not to place a sliver of weight on her left leg.

She pulled her thoughts together. The rumble. A gulp. The citadel. Another gulp. The citadel had fallen. The Aetherwing Citadel had fallen.

The Aetherwing Citadel.

The crash.

The gush of wind.

The wave.

It had sped towards them, besieging the Lighthouse. And then…then?

She couldn’t remember.

She thrust herself up on her bed, resting her hands on the pillow behind her for support. She flung her legs down the bed, her bedsheets fell with it. She groaned, leaned forward and plucked the bedsheets up. She folded them neatly and placed them by her pillow. Then, she stood up. Her knees wobbled slightly. Worried, she placed a hand on the bed. The wobbling stopped. Her legs ached. She glanced at the open window. She took a few steps forward to the door. The wobbling began again. Alarmed, she held the door tightly. The wobbling stopped.

She repeated this ritual as she inched out of her cottage, through the back front door. She went around the cottage and finally reached the wooden fence. She felt mildly exhausted and so she clutched the fence tighter. Falling off the other side meant…well, she didn’t want to think about it.

Zephyr Haven hung in the air calmly like it had always done. So did the other islands as they went about their business. It was a picture-perfect day like any other. Yet it wasn’t. She glanced straight forward.

After all, what ought to be there wasn’t there.

The Aetherwing Citadel was now miles under the sea, taking the Aetherwings and their army of staff to the depths with it. A feathery breeze tickled her cheeks affectionately. She shuffled to the left and glanced at the sight below her, on the far left.